The Sky Is Still Blue
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Clyde Easter & Emily Prentiss/ -She needs to tell him that she's sorry. That Lauren had been the one falling for Doyle, not her, not Emily. She needs him to know, needs to remind him that whatever Lauren might have felt, Emily hadn't. That Emily still belongs to him.-


**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**AN:- ****This takes place after "Lauren" was "taken" from Ian Doyle's villa. - / Clyde&Emily / a little dark I guess, but not the whole way through and no one dies**

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><p><strong>The Sky Is Still Blue<strong>

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"Where's Clyde?"

It's the first thing Emily wants to know as soon as the door falls shut behind her.

Tsia looks startled. "He's not here."

"What do you mean he's not here?" Emily looks at Jeremy standing next to her and back to Tsia at the other end of their motel room. "Where the hell is he?"

"I don't know," the other woman tells her. "He just said that he couldn't make it."

"He couldn't make it," Emily echoes. Raises her brows. Laughs. "Of course," she mumbles. Closes her eyes and grabs the edge of the dresser next to the door to steady herself.

"Are you alright?" Tsia sounds worried. "Did everything go as planned?"

"You tell me," Emily answers, her eyes still closed to keep the room from spinning.

"It was Clyde's decision to get you out, not ours." Jeremy's words sound like an apology, but if anything if makes Emily angrier. "Then tell me, Jeremy, where the fuck is he?" Emily can feel her cheeks flush with fury. Her whole body trembling.

"Emily,..."

"Don't Emily me," she spits, looking back up at her team members. "I want to talk to Clyde."

"You can talk to Sean," Jeremy tries to soothe her. "And as soon as we're back in London..."

"I don't want to talk to Sean," Emily glares back at him, wondering if he really doesn't get it or if he just doesn't want to. "And I'm not going to go anywhere before I talk to Clyde."

"I can try," Tsia gives in, sharing a look with Jeremy. "But I'm not sure-"

"Oh come on," Jeremy shakes his head, clearly annoyed. "She's acting like a spoiled brat and you're going to support that?"

Emily bites her lip to keep herself from saying something she'll regret. Jeremy just wants to do his job and get her on a jet back to London. Cover up every trace that she's been in Tuscany in the first place. But he's missing the point. It doesn't matter anymore. She's as good as dead anyway.

But of course he doesn't know that.

She reaches for the bag sitting on the floor, the one she packed before leaving London. Ignores Jeremy's and Tsia's bickering, wonders if they even realize that they sound like kids on the playground.

Emily checks the bag for her clothes and the hair dye she stuffed in there more than a year ago. At least she'd look like herself again.

"Call Clyde and tell him that if he want wants me back in London he has to come and get me himself." Both, Jeremy and Tsia, turn around to stare at her.

"You're joking, right?" Jeremy starts and Tsia shakes her head.

"Come on, Em, that's ridiculous."

Emily doesn't blink. "Do it."

.

Emily's sitting on the floor. Her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her hair's still wet from the shower, dyed back to its natural black-brown.

Her head hurts and black dots dance in front of her eyes, her whole body screams at her to give in to sleep. But she knows it's too dangerous to allow her eyes to fall shut. Knows she may never open them again.

Tsia's watching her from her place on the couch and Emily wonders where Jeremy has gone, but she doesn't dare to ask in case Tsia already told her.

Reality is slipping fast and Emily feels her body give in to whatever poison is running through her veins. By now every heartbeat feels more painful then the one before and she wonders how much time she has left.

The room spins and Emily's fingers clutch at the carpet to keep herself in a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" Tsia asks and Emily can hear the concern in her voice. Emily wonders if she means it. Either way, the question alone is enough to make her snap.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she spits angrily. "I don't need you watching me."

"You know, Em, Clyde was right to get you out. I never understood why he thought you were the right one for this." Tsia tells her without a blink and Emily scoffs.

"I guess you would have done better, right?"

"Maybe I would have."

Emily shakes her head tiredly. "You weren't Doyle's type, Tsia. He wouldn't have fallen for it."

"I think this has more to do with the fact that I'm not Clyde's type."

"What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying."

It gets silent, not a pleasant silence. It's suffocating and Emily wishes she could at least open the window to get some air into her lungs. But of course she can't. It's not safe and with every minute they stay in this motel it gets more dangerous.

"We should leave. It's not safe here," Tsia tells her if as reading her mind.

Emily sighs. "I told you I won't. Not until I talk to Clyde."

"This is ridiculous. Jeremy's right, you are being childish."

"Clyde's on his way, isn't he?" Emily asks, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

Tsia laughs.

"You have him wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

Emily looks up at Tsia, but all she sees are blurred lines. This isn't just about today, Emily realizes. It's about Clyde and her, about that relationship they both won't acknowledge.

"It's not how it works, Tsia. He doesn't put me before anyone else."

Tsia just laughs and Emily watches as she gets up to her feet.

"Just keep telling yourself that, sweetie."

Even though Emily can't make out the features of Tsia's face, she's sure there's disappointment and hurt written there. And Emily knows she's supposed to feel bad about it, but she can't bring herself to care.

Emily stays silent, listens until Tsia's steps disappear and the motel room door falls shut behind her. She feels angry tears burn in her eyes and she wishes she could just close them. But she can't.

She tells herself to keep breathing, ignores how much her chest hurts. Hopes Clyde will be there soon.

She needs to tell him to protect the little boy she came to love like her own. And she needs to tell him that she's sorry. That_ Lauren_ had been the one falling for Doyle, not her, not Emily. She needs him to know.

Needs to remind him that whatever _Lauren_ might have felt, Emily hadn't.

That Emily still belongs to him.

.

Clyde Easter had known everything had gone to hell the second he'd gotten a look at those surveillance pictures.

He'd been on his way to get her out of Doyle's Tuscan villa himself, driven by jealousy and pride. In the end, he somehow got a hold of himself. Stayed back to watch from afar.

When Tsia called him an hour ago to tell him that Emily was throwing a tantrum like a five year old, he'd known he'd been right to get her out. Her behavior confirmed all his suspicions.

He makes his way up the stairs and down the dark hallway of the motel, tries to brace himself for what's to come. Knows it's going to be ugly. And not for the first time he wishes he hadn't sent her in in the first place.

He knows that he can't keep working with her. He'd known for a while now and this had just proven the point. They've gotten too close. Now he had to untangle her from his grasp to keep himself sane and to keep her safe.

He knocks twice, waits. Knocks again. Three times. Using the code they always had. It takes her a lot longer than it should, but when Emily opens the door, the first thing he notices is that she looks like herself again. Her long hair back to its natural color, the clothes she's wearing hers and not_ Lauren's._

"What's wrong," he asks her as he steps inside. Pushes the door shut behind him. "What was so important that I had to come here in person?"

"I need your help," she starts and Clyde watches as she leans back against the wall to steady herself. It's just then that he notices that she looks sick. She's even paler than usual, her hair tousled like she just woke up. Her black clothes rumpled.

"I can't explain," she continues, her words slurred. "But you need to hurry and get Louise and her boy out."

Clyde squints his eyes._ Had she been drinking?_ This was much worse than he'd expected.

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"I want you to get Doyle's housekeeper and her son out. Take them away, keep them hidden."

"Have you been drinking, darling?" he asks her gently. Still no idea what the hell she's talking about. He watches her shake her head at him stubbornly.

"No," she tells him. "Please, Clyde, just do it. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

He stares at her, unsure what to do. She's right, he knows she wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. At least she wouldn't have before she became _Lauren Reynolds._ Now he's not so sure anymore.

"Promise me, Clyde," she's begging now. "You need to help him. Promise me you will."

Maybe it's the way she looks at him, maybe it's just because she's the one who's asking or maybe he just knows that it's the right thing to do. He nods. He thinks there's a smile on her face, just a second before her knees give out.

Clyde catches her just at the last moment. Cursing under his breath he lowers her with him to the ground, grabs her wrist to search for her pulse.

"Bloody hell, Em, what have you done?" he yells. "Emily! Tell me!"

He shakes her, watches her eyes flutter open again.

"I'm sorry," she whispers and Clyde feels her fingers curl around his hand. "I'm sorry."

He's startled to find her dark eyes fill with tears, can't remember having ever seen her cry ever before.

"What the fuck have you done," he asks her again and he can feel the panic seizing him as her nose starts to bleed.

"Lauren Reynolds has to die," she tells him, between ragged breaths. Her eye lids fluttering. "Lauren has to die..."

"No, no, no, Emily! Don't you dare, Emily!" Clyde yells, watches as her eyes roll back. Her body goes limp in his arms and he knows her heart stopped beating.

.

With his head in his hands Clyde finds himself in a hospital waiting room, staring at the white linoleum at his feet.

His phone vibrates in his jacket pocket but he can't bring himself to answer it anymore. He's exhausted and he just wants to get out of there as soon as possible.

He managed to resuscitate Emily, before gathering her in his arms and carrying her downstairs. He called Tsia from the car, barking orders through the phone. Unable to hide his anger. What the hell was wrong with her to leave Emily alone in the first place? And why didn't she realize the state Emily was in?

He's still too furious to admit that he hadn't either. That they all missed it.

It's a young doctor, a blonde woman half his age, who comes and tells him that Emily will be fine. That he brought her in just in time. She asks a lot of questions Clyde tries to answer as politely as possible. It won't do them any good to draw any more attention to them than they already had. When the woman finally shows him to Emily's room at the ICU, he's more than relieved.

For a long time Clyde just stands there next to her bed, stares down at Emily's pale face, the traces of charcoal in the corners of her mouth. The beep of the heart monitor she's attached to.

Guilt is wearing him down bringing him to his knees for the first time in years. He failed her. He'd promised her that she wouldn't get hurt. Now she almost died.

It doesn't matter that he hadn't been the one to give her the poison, that he hadn't been the one trying to kill her. He'd written her death sentence by putting her there and even when it was his job, _their job,_ he'd still been the one who made the decision.

He isn't sure if she did it herself or if Doyle did. Both were equally possible. Both equally terrifying.

If Doyle had known that she'd been undercover, Emily would never be safe again. A prison cell in Russia couldn't hold a man like Doyle. It would be far too easy for him to reach for his contacts and hunt her down if he wanted to.

Clyde knows he has to do something and he's already working through different options, wondering who he can trust to take care of this.

In the end he reaches for his phone, to make the call she asked him to make. With a few orders to the right people he arranges everything to get Louise and her son, Declan, out of the country. He isn't sure what this is about, but the truth is that to him it doesn't matter.

He would do anything she asks him to.

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He sits on the bed next to her sleeping form, her hand in his. Listening to the soft beep of the heart monitor next to the bed. It's hours later when she finally stirs.

Clyde watches as her eye lids flutter open and shut again. Confusion washing over her pale face.

"What happened?" she whispers. "Where am I?" Her voice is raw and he's sure her throat must hurt.

He bends forward, one hand still curled around hers, the other brushing away the dark hair from her feverish skin.

"It's over" he tells her. "It's over now."

He watches her blink again, her dark eyes meeting his. She looks scared, her hand holding on to his in an almost painful grip and Clyde wonders if she's hallucinating. The doctor said she might.

Without thinking he lays down beside her, pulls her close with his arms around her waist. Careful not the send off the alarm on the monitor.

He feels her nestle against his side, watches her rest her head on his chest right over his heart. Mumbling something that sounds a lot like _I love you._

He knows she won't remember this and even if she did she wouldn't talk about it. It was just another rule of their relationship, the one they both would never admit they have.

It's what makes him love her even more.

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"Washington D.C.?"

"I know it's not London, but it will do." Clyde gives her a smile from across his desk. His blue eyes finding her dark ones. "I got you a flat with a great few of the Capitol, an expensive car you will love and I even picked a few new clothes for your first day at work."

He watches as she raises her brows skeptically. But she knows better than to argue.

"I think you might even know your new boss," Clyde continues. "He used to work for your mother when you were in college."

"Great," Emily stares back down at the envelope in her hands. "That sounds like fun."

"Pretend it's just another undercover job, just another challenge. I'm sure you'll find a way to entertain yourself."

Clyde gets up from his chair, before settling himself down on his desk next to her. He reaches for her face, cups it gently with his hands to make her look up at him.

"It's not forever, darling."

She stays silent, but there's no need for her to speak. He can read in her eyes what she wants him to know. Everything she'll never say out loud. And instead of an actual answer, he bends forward to kiss her.

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"Agent Hotchner?"

The second she walks into his office, a fake smile plastered on her face, wearing a skirt Clyde had chosen for the occasion, she knows why he'd sent her here.

She has to hold back a chuckle while she puts down the box with her fake belongings. Thinking that she should have expected this after everything that had happened.

"I'm Agent Emily Prentiss," she tells the man in the dark suit, her hand outstretched across his desk. Watches as confusion clouds his face.

Knows why Clyde told her to see this as an undercover job. After all, that's what it was.

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><p><strong>Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners.<strong>

**AN: Thank you to everyone who's taking the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And of course a big thank you goes to my wonderful beta readers guineapiggie and clairebare!**


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